


Earthtones

by feverpitchfiasco



Category: The Losers - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Soulmates, and Pooch and Jake are a brotp, jake is a little shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-08
Updated: 2015-06-08
Packaged: 2018-04-03 11:07:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4098748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feverpitchfiasco/pseuds/feverpitchfiasco
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jake doesn't care that he hasn't met his soul mate yet. He hates that unmatched people can only see sepia tones and he's convinced brown is a boring color.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Earthtones

**Author's Note:**

> Ok. So. I set out to write something completely different from this. 180 degrees of difference. But then this popped into my head and I had to get it out first. Just a quick little drabble.
> 
> It's been months since I've written anyway, and I can definitely feel that I'm out of practice and rusty. But whatever. I had fun with this and it's all that matters. I'll just consider this a warm up for the larger, more complicated piece I want to write =)
> 
> This is actually my very first fic for the Losers fandom! I'm usually over in Star Trek territory.

Jensen had been bumping around the planet long enough to know the place wasn’t perfect. He’d certainly been in the army and spec-ops long enough to know that sometimes there were just bad people who enjoyed doing bad things. No rhyme or reason. Overall, though, he liked the world. It was a fairly decent place. Except for one goddamn thing.

Everyone was born colorblind. You remained colorblind until you met your soulmate. Or were in close proximity to them. About to meet them. A lot of people had put a lot of time and money into researching, interviewing, and trying to piece together how and why it happened. No one really had an answer. Until the Fates deemed you ready, the world was a wash of sepia.

Not that Jensen had anything to compare it to, but he was a little put off by the color. Pooch, soulmates with a terrifyingly lovely woman named Jolene, told him that sepia was basically a fancy way of saying brown. Like dirt and sand and Jensen’s own hair when it was wet. He told him that his hair was more yellow when it dried out, like the daffodils that Jolene planted in their front yard or dead grass. His eyes were the same shade of blue as the little plastic pool he’d bought for his kid. Jensen decided bar night with the team was over for that particular night when Pooch had started in on flesh tones and pink lips. Roque had agreed and begged off to spend the night with a woman he’d been making eyes at all evening. He at least had the heart to pour Jensen and Pooch into a cab before abandoning them, though. Jensen unceremoniously dumped Pooch into his bed when they tumbled back into the house the team shared on base. He retreated to his own room and pulled out a book of color swatches. In painstakingly cramped handwriting, he filled in the margins with what Pooch had told him.

He didn’t place much faith in the concept of soulmates, because he was his own man thank you very much. But it still felt prudent to have a vague idea of which things were which colors. Just in case he ever did meet his soulmate, he wanted to be able to identify colors on his own. He filled the pages of his color book with items and would pull it out at random to flip through. In theory, he knew the sky was blue and grass was green. Unless it was summer, when it got all brittle and crispy. Then it was apparently the color of his hair. It was all academic though. To him, the sky was just a lighter shade of the ground during the day and a darker shade of it at night. 

They were outside the house, lounging on some plastic lawn chairs he was assured were nice and obnoxiously colored. Pooch was busy telling him that a lot of the earthy components of the world were shades of brown. Dirt, sand, tree trunks. He tried to explain the color of leaves; greens shifting to yellows and oranges and reds, but Jensen only got frustrated that he couldn’t _know_ what those words meant. Still, he dutifully pulled his book out and let Pooch flip him to the right pages before uncapping his pen.

“Seriously, dude. I don’t see why you’ve still got the book going on. You have all this shit memorized. One of these days, you’re gonna walk across your hottie and be all ‘ _Oh so that’s what green looks like_ ’ and then we’ll never hear the end of it.” Waving his hand as he spoke, Pooch managed to avoid slopping any of his beer anywhere. It was a close call though.

Scooting his book to the far side of his lap, Jensen sniffed daintily and shrugged. “There’s a whole aspect of the world out there and I can’t fuckin’ see it, man. I don’t even really care about meeting my soul mate. It’d be nice and all, but I guess with our job it’s also sort of cruel. I don’t know how Jolene stands it. I guess I’m just curious about what poor sap’s been matched up with me. That and what fucking color my shirts are…” 

“Trust me, you don’t wanna know. They’re _loud_.” Pooch laughed, taking a long pull from his glass before setting it on the ground. “For a dude who can’t see colors, you sure know how to find the brightest ones.”

“My shirts are wonderful. My shirts are goddamn treasures and I bet whoever the new guy is will agree with me.” Jensen and Pooch had spent the morning gossiping about who Clay had gone to retrieve. New team members were always a gamble. They only had a name to go on, and ‘Sgt. Carlos Alvarez’ only gave them a vague idea of what to expect. The Losers had a certain reputation and it wasn’t one that got them the cream of the crop. Too broken and crazy to be reined in, but too effective to be let go. When questioned about how he managed to lead them, Clay usually just heaved a put-upon sigh and grumbled about herding cats. 

“He’s unmatched, so he might just not know better. Your shirts’ll probably look normal, aside from all the puns. And bad quotes. And pop culture references. And bullet holes.” Pooch ticked off on his fingers as he listed all the ways Jensen’s shirts were amazing.

“I get it, I get it.. Oh wait! I think that’s Clay! Look, look!” Jensen smacked at Pooch as Clay walked around the corner. All they could see of Alvarez was a compact build and a pretty bitchin’ hat, though.

“New guy looks short. Clay’s got several inches on him. Jesus.” Pooch cupped a hand over his forehead, blocking out the sun to get a better look.

“Clay’s got, like, four inches on _you_ , genius.” Jensen squinted, trying to make out details. They were close enough that Jensen could hear Clay’s voice but too far away to make out individual words. Clay was speaking, gesturing toward the house and rolling his eyes when he saw the guys out front gawping. Jensen nearly fell out of his chair when Alvarez glanced up at them. Blinking rapidly, he stared as Pooch raised an eyebrow at him.

“The fuck was that?” Pooch had turned back to Clay and Alvarez, who had stopped in the middle of the street and stared at the house. 

Flipping through pages, Jensen settled on one. He poked it hard enough to crinkle the page. “Pooch, your shirt is fucking _red_.” 

“Thanks for noticing. I knew that when I put it on this morning. But how did you…?” Pooch turned back towards Jensen, who was more dazed than he did after a 36 hour hack-a-thon as he stared at everything.

Jensen jumped up from his chair and pointed an accusing finger as he sprinted toward them. “I’m gonna assume you’re Alvarez, but you better have just gotten your colors too, asshole! I’m not ready to accept Clay as my belated soulmate!”

Clay looked at Jensen with his usual level of mild frustration. “What are you talking about, Jensen?” 

Jensen shook his book of colors in his face. “Color, Clay. That’s what I’m talking about. You bring the new kid home and suddenly I have my colors!” He looked back at Alvarez and gave him a blatant up-down. 

He returned the scrutiny and blinked at Jensen’s chest. “Your shirt is very…” His gaze got stuck on the bright pink material. There was a muffled ‘ _Ha! Tolja!_ ’ from Pooch. 

Clay pinched the bridge of his nose closed his eyes. “So let me get this straight. Jensen, you just got your colors. Alvarez, I’m guessing you got yours too. I guess congratulations are in order for everyone except me because I have a lot of extra paperwork to do now.” 

“My name is Cougar.” He tipped his hat back, exposing his face as he extended a hand.

“Jensen. Jake Jensen.” He shook Cougar’s hand, and tried to take him all in. From his dark hair falling in soft curls around his ears, to the rich golden glow of his skin, and a thousand other shades he’d never seen before.

Maybe brown wasn’t such a boring color after all.


End file.
